


And The Looking Glass Falls

by heijihatsutori



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fanmix, Gen, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heijihatsutori/pseuds/heijihatsutori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is an old grave digger living on a shack beside the cemetery on the hill. No one knows his name, or how old he is, but he has been there from the start, they say; back when the town was nothing but remnants of the last war, which ends when a great fire burns everything down till there is nothing left but ashes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now with fanmix. [Download](http://heijihatsutori.livejournal.com/14205.html) or [listen to the playlist](http://8tracks.com/heijihatsutori/and-the-looking-glass-falls).

  
_It's like_  
 _You're my mirror  
My mirror staring back at me_

 

*******

            There is an old grave digger living on a shack beside the cemetery on the hill. No one knows his name, or how old he is, but he has been there from the start, they say; back when the town was nothing but remnants of the last war, which ends when a great fire burns everything down until nothing was left behind but ashes.

            Nobody is exactly clear on what caused the fire, though there are claims from the limited journals recorded by the neighboring country that they started it after seizing the royal palace and belatedly discovering that a plague has already made its way into the very town, -which was a big city at that time- and in order to ensure that it doesn’t spread to theirs, which was just across the sea, burns everything as last drastic measure. Alas, the fire didn’t exactly help matters, as the plague had already spread far and wide, bringing down the ambitious neighboring country.

            Since then, there were rumors floating about in the region; that the plague was the curse of the fallen king, and it wasn’t until a decade after that the very few remaining survivors who fled the place during the war gathered and returned, with plans to re-build back their hometown.

             Upon their arrival, nobody said anything when they see what had happened to their beloved land, and certainly, nobody mentioned the hill the royal palace once stood proud on, as the palace, too, had gone, graves filling the area. Out of loyalty and respect for the late king, the people decided to leave the place be, until someone points out that there is a shack there, making it quite literally the only building stood upright after the fire.

            And there they stood, watching as a man coming out of the shack. Looking out at the people, and smiling at them as he walks slowly, yet surely down the path of the hill, is the man later known as the grave digger.

 

*******

  
_All I need's a little time_  
 _To get behind the sun and cast my weight_

 

-Year 150X-

            The heat of the sun is pricking his back, but Howon could care less about that now. He is late behind the schedule now, and he can totally see Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu fuming while restlessly tapping his fingers on the desk; mounted with papers like always. But for now he needs to get this done, the precious seeds might be withered any minute and really, all those schedule be damned. Out of the corner of his eye, the old farmer is looking out, eyes concerned. He takes the cue to smile, reassuring the man that yes, he is fine, and no, he doesn’t need help thank you very much; you should just sit and nurse that waist already.

            Still, the old man stands and starts walking, and he is half-tempted to make the stubborn grandpa sit himself, but his hands are dirtied by soil and he shouldn’t leave work unfinished, so he hastily plants the seeds, careful not to step on others.

            By the time he is done, the old man is by his side already, eyes burrowed.

            “You really shouldn’t have, young man. It was my fault for misplacing them at the first place.”

            He just smiles easy at that, and reaches to help the man back under the shade.

            “It’s my pleasure to be of help, mister. Please, don’t be burdened by it; besides, it’s good to exercise one’s body, I think.”

             The man smiles at that, and offers him lunch, to which he refuses politely and he makes way to leave, the old man thanking him profusely. He is happy by the simple words, and takes delight of yet another useful deed of the day when he bumps into the old man’s daughter by the gate, who happens to be a helper at the palace.

            The girl, who is still shell-shocked at the sight of him, gives way and is about to bolt inside when he stopped her.

            “Please, I will be grateful if you keep what happens today and speak to no one of it.”

            The girl nods, heads lowered.

            “Yes, yes, I will- ah. I heard of the Chancellor looking for you all over the palace before I returned. You might want to stay out more, Your High- I mean-”

            “The name’s Hoya, young miss. Thank you for the reminder, it’s a great help.”

            At that, the girl lifts up her head and stares, cheeks tinted with a bit of pink.

            “So you’re- I mean, it’s a pleasure to be able of help, mister.”

            He smiles and continues walking down the road, discreetly eyeing the surrounding to make sure he is not followed. Satisfied, he switches to a busier road leading to the center of the town, blending in with the crowd effortlessly.

            Of course, Hoya, as he is affectionately called by the majority of the townspeople, continues wandering around and lends a hand here and there. Hoya, the mysterious young man armed with nothing but a smile, always wearing the same simple white shirt and brown pants, who claimed he worked for the royal family most of the week to explain his often absences and to divert suspicions when the shopkeeper said he saw him taking the path up the hill to the palace.

            He doesn’t mean to be tardy with his responsibilities, no. It’s just that he loves the people; their smiles, the sincere in his eyes when they thanked him, when they called him Hoya, which is a name he gave out of the blue to the grocer the first time he ditched Sunggyu. The Chancellor’s nagging had became too much to bear and he was feeling adventurous plus maybe a bit rebellious at the same time, so he sneaked out.

            And he never, not even once, regretted it.

            Besides, Lee Howon deserves a vacation once in a while, he thinks.

            Back at the palace, Sunggyu is on the verge of destroying the room, royal documents be damned.

 

*******

  
_Aren't you something to admire_  
 _‘Cause your shine is something like a mirror_

 

-Year 152X-

            The first time a certain traveler by the name of Kim Myungsoo arrives at the place is when the town is having a celebration; it is the 10th anniversary since the town’s re-opening. There are colorful papers everywhere, and various flowers decorating the sidewalk, bringing life to the otherwise common port of a growing town. The people are all smiles when he arrives, and are more than happy to welcome him to join the festivities. He usually tries to limit his contact with the locals, for fear that he will end up staying far more than necessary, but everyone is so happy, that he cannot help but say yes.

            He found himself sitting next to a quiet man on a stool outside the grocery, and he cannot help but feel his stare on him, so he smiles and introduces himself as a traveler.

            Still, the man says nothing, but smiles softly, nostalgia in his clear eyes.

            Later, when the festivities wind down and he checks in at the local inn, he inquires the owner about the quiet man, for he has been traveling for years but there was never a time when a man’s presence leaves quite the impression on him.

            “That must be the grave digger, mister traveler.”

            He must have been surprised at that, as the kind owner chuckles at him.

            “He lives in the shack beside the graves by the hill, and apparently he is mute, for there is never an instance where he actually speaks to us. A shame, really, he seems like a good guy for discussions and all. I don’t know, there’s just an air about him, you see.”

            The owner smiles albeit a bit sadly at that, and retires for the night.

            As he lies down and stares at the ceiling, the words of the owner keeps repeating in his head, and he can never shake the look in the man’s eyes from his mind, as well as the wry smile.

            The next day, he takes the opportunity to climb the hill, in order to meet the grave digger once more. He thinks of voicing this to the owner first, but cancelled it when he sees how busy everyone is in the mornings. So he walks, greeting people as he passed by, and as he gets nearer to the hill, he gets more nervous for some reason that he is half-tempted to turn back when a kid approaches him.

            “Mister, where are you going?”

            He calms down somehow, and smiles.

            “I’m thinking of going up the hill. Is it not allowed?”

            The kid shakes his little head, and he thinks it’s cute.

            “You can go up, but people don’t really encourage it.”

            He raises a brow at that.

            “And why is that, young boy?”

            The kid tugs his hand and leads him to a nearby shade, where they sit.

            “They think they shouldn’t disturb the graves.”

            He nods, understanding.

            “But the grave digger lives there, right?”

            The kid nods once.

            “He takes care of all the graves.”

            Obviously, he thinks.

            “People only go up when there’s death in the town, for funerals.”

            He almost stills at that.

            “My mother said it is a sad place, but there are lots of flowers there. And the grave digger is a very kind person. He lets me pick up the flowers, but when my father found out he scolds me.”

            The kid pouts at the memory.

            “I want to apologize to the grave digger for picking the flowers, but I can’t find him yesterday. Should we go together, mister?”

            He never thought he will be so relief at that suggestion, so he nods and smiles, taking the kids hand into his, as they walk up the path to the hill.

            He understands perfectly why the people rarely come up; the hill is almost covered by graves, tombstones in various sizes welcoming them and fills the spacious area. From the hill he can see the entirety of the town, and the scenery is breathtaking. And at the end of the path is the shack, various flowers blooming at the plot in front of it.

            Standing with a shovel amidst the greenery is the grave digger, who smiles as they walk closer. The kid has let go of his hand, running towards the man with a smile as brilliant as the sun, and he watches as the grave digger shakes his head softly with a kind smile when the kid apologizes, a hand patting the kid’s head softly.

            Myungsoo is yet to know this, but the sight will stay with him for a long, long time.

 

*******

  
_Yesterday is history_  
 _Tomorrow's a mystery_

 

-Year 150X-

            From far away the wind blows, and Sungyeol is having a hard time keeping his hat from flying away, much to his annoyance. Inwardly he can’t stop cursing Sunggyu for making him wearing it when doing official duties, something like proper and etiquette and all when he last bump into the Chancellor at the palace. He understands the point of argument but he can’t help but feel a bit pissed. Why the hell is it so important anyway? He is just a mere messenger is all!

            He still begrudgingly keeping his hat on his head as he climb up the path to the palace when he bumps into a grave-faced Woohyun, who seems visibly relieved to see him.

            “Do you happen to see His High- I mean, um, a man with white shirt and, uh.”

            Ah, he thinks. Today is definitely not his day.

            “Is His Highness sneaked out again?”

            He chuckles inwardly at the thin line of the Marshall’s mouth.

            “Yes, I swear His Highness loves giving the Chancellor a slip a bit too much- wait.”

            Crap, he should’ve feigned ignorance at that.

            “Yes…?”

            Woohyun is staring openly at him now and he can feel his insides squirming.

            “You’re coming with me.”

            He stills at that, but make no effort to resist when the man swiftly walk past him and pulling him along down the path. Woohyun sets the record of being the youngest Lord Marshall in the history of the country and is said to be the most talented in the palace, been selected by His Highness himself, and he knows better than trying to pick a fight with such a strong person. Sure, he is taller, but that doesn’t really mean matters and he intends to stay in one piece thank you very much.

            They walk in silence and Woohyun has let him go when they reach the bottom of the hill but he didn’t dare run away so he just follows the Marshal, who is quite a favorite with the townspeople.

            Not as much as Hoya though.

            And speaking of the devil, he can see him in the grocery shop across the road, chatting away with the owner, totally oblivious of the current situation. He steals a glance at Woohyun, who is listening intently to the old farmer who stops them and practically drags them to join his table at the open diner. Something tells him that the old man is trying to stall them from finding Hoya, judging by his somewhat deliberately slow manner and ensuring that Woohyun sits with his back on the grocery.

            Of course, the ever loyal Woohyun will never think of such things; he takes each and every opinion as well as complaint seriously, which is the very reason he is made the Marshall at the first place.

            For Sungyeol, that might be Woohyun’s biggest strength and weakness.

            He watches as Hoya stands up, makes his way out of the grocery, and casually smiles straight at him when their eyes meet, before disappearing into the crowd once again. He can imagine Sunggyu trashing the room in frustration by now, and he is sure the Chancellor is no longer in Woohyun’s no.1 concern list; judging by the way he smiles easy and charmingly at the diner lady when he ask for more coffee.

            Relaxed, he puts down his hat, and joins the conversation, the royal letter from the neighboring country tucked in the left-side breast pocket.

            From far away, the wind blows.

 

*******

  
_So any turns that I can't see_  
 _Like I'm a stranger on this road_

 

-Year 152X-

            The thing about travelling is, for Myungsoo especially, is that it sets up a million of questions, none of the answer, and it all comes down to luck, which can be very irritating. Sighing for the nth time, he carefully puts down his backpack and sits with his back on the ruin, shielding him from the sun.

            He pulls out his map, which he bought with a cheap price from the dealer at the port, and retracing back his steps, only to found out that yes, he is at the right place, but no, this can’t be it. Frustrated, he decides to lie down instead, the sky so blue above him.

            He must have fallen asleep, and so deep, that when he wakes up the sun is almost setting already. He sits abruptly and feels his head spinning, his throat parched, and he is late to register that he is not alone until a hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, steadying him before he falls face first to the ground, another holding a flask of water to his lips. He was too out of it to say or do anything that he just greedily gulps down the water till the last drop, as he closes his eyes, regaining his senses.

            10 seconds later he is back to the world, to the relief of the stranger.

            “I saw you lying there at noon when I passed by, and no matter how I hard I try you won’t wake up, so I just leave you be. Turns out you’re still there when I return just now, and truthfully, I thought you’re already dead or something.”

            He got a chill running down his spine as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

            “Luckily, you wake up soon after, young man.”

            He smiles sheepishly at that, as he thought that the man is not that old himself. He opens his mouth to voice it out, only to hear nothing instead. Panicked, he tries coughing, only to wince at the pain. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the man, who frowns deeper as he tries again and again to regain his voice to no avail. He only stops abruptly with the attempt when a cool hand touches his forehead.

            “You should stop hurting your throat. And you’re burning up, too; can you stand?”

            He nods, even when he is not that sure himself. To his luck, he manages to stand, albeit a bit wobbly on the legs. The sun has fully sets by now, and he reaches for his backpack, only to found it in the man’s hand.

            “I don’t think you’re in the position to carry this now.”

            The man must has sense his discomfort, as he chuckles light-heartedly.

            “No worries, if I really want to steal from you, I have fled long before now.”

            Indeed, he thinks, as gratitude washes over him.

            “That reminds me, we’re yet to introduce ourselves, aren’t we?”

            The stranger smiles softly, and Myungsoo stills, firmly rooted, stuck.

            “I am-

 

*******

  
_And all the roads that lead you there are winding_  
 _And all the lights that light the way are blinding_

 

 

-Year 150X-

            The palace is bustling with energy, with maids cleaning the windows, cooks getting ready for lunch preparation, gardeners trimming the hedge of the garden, and guards taking their respective places. It’s just another day, Sunggyu thinks, as one hand holding the bundles of document and another smoothing down his overcoat, all the while throwing a smile at whomever that happens to make eye-contact on the passing.

            He throws open the door and is not surprised, not one bit to see that the royal office is still empty. He puts down the documents on the table, careful not to mix any with the already existing pile, and starts sorting down the papers. His fingers moves fast and precise, eyes briefly skimming through the written documents, and 10 minutes later he has cleared everything on the table, from papers all the way to the pens.

            There’s still no sign of Lee Howon coming.

            Sunggyu takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, eyes closed, a hand soothing the forehead and leaning on his left side to the nearest wall, in an attempt to keep his irritation at bay. There’s a knock at the door and he is late to answer when it swings open, revealing not Howon, but Woohyun instead, to his dismay.

            The Marshall, to his credit, is not surprised to see him there, but simply stares openly, a habit he picked up from his assistant, maybe, and to be honest it unnerves Sunggyu, but the Chancellor will never admit it, no way. Clearing his throat, and straightens his posture, he smiles, addressing the visitor.

            “Yes, Lord Marshall, anything I can help you with today?”

            He does not fail to see that Woohyun is fully-dressed today, formally, too; the black dress uniform fits his sharp features, and he completes it with the kepi, which is very rare for the Marshall, who more often than not leaves it dusted on the shelf in his office.

            “His Highness is requesting for the Lord Chancellor’s presence at the Hall of Mirrors.”

            That explains it, he thinks. The Marshall won’t bother if it’s anyone less than Howon. Nodding once, he reaches for the documents, and makes way to the door, where Woohyun is still standing, holding it open. He chuckles inwardly at the gesture, settling for a light smile at the man instead.

            The royal office, as well as other official rooms is situated at the west side of the palace, while the king’s chamber and royal rooms, including the kitchens is at the east side. Connecting the two side of the palace is a long hallway filled with mirrors on both side, giving a clear view of the whole town below the hill with the sea as a spectacular backdrop. On a clear day, one can even see as far as the neighboring country’s land, though Sunggyu beg to differ.

            The hallway was built by the previous monarch when the palace underwent some reconstruction years ago, and was said to borrow heavily from Versailles’ Galerie des Glaces, albeit not as luxurious, and aptly named Hall of Mirrors.

            Sunggyu has always thought that the previous king lacks sense of humor.

            Now, as he walks down the long hallway with Woohyun a couple of steps behind him, he can’t help but wonder why Howon likes the place so much. Sure, the scenery is beautiful, and it can be one of the main attractions of uniqueness of the palace, but somehow all the mirrors unnerved him, just like how the Marshall’s footsteps leave no sound behind him.

            He didn’t expect any word from the man at all, for Woohyun himself to come personally and talks to him is as rare as the kepi on his head, and Sunggyu idly browsing through the first couple of pages of the document when it hits him.

            It’s that time already.

            As if to confirm his thoughts, he can see Sungyeol the messenger -the squire’s kepi differentiates him from the rest- standing behind Howon in the middle section of the hallway, the current monarch has his eyes staring out at the town, sitting on the makeshift throne; His Highness has always been a rare case of a monarch in the country’s history.

            Later Howon make Sungyeol read aloud the royal letter from Crown Prince Lee Sungjong of the neighboring country, to the surprise of the young squire, and while Sunggyu is used to His Highness being unpredictable, he has to admit it’s amusing to watch the man stutters through the letter.

            After a brief second of silence and Sungyeol stops looking like he’s going to die just by standing there behind Woohyun, Howon stands up, and faces the three of them.

            “Lord Chancellor, prepare a letter as a reply to Crown Prince Lee Sungjong that we will go through with the agreement as per the tradition. Lord Marshall; starts making arrangement on the security of the palace and ensures the security of the Crown Prince and his envoy during their stay. Young messenger, I entrust you with the reply letter to the neighboring country, and make sure it reaches Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo himself.”

            “Yes, Your Highness.”

            With that, everyone is dismissed, and Sunggyu makes way to return to the royal office when Howon stops him, a small smile tugging on the lips.

            “You ought to take some rest, Lord Chancellor. The weather is nice today, too.”

            He bows at that, thanking the king for his kindness and starts to leave, not before reminding Howon to signs the documents already, to which he smiles sheepishly, and promised to get it done before tomorrow. Sunggyu knows that Howon never goes back on his words, so he smiles, satisfied.

            Still, as Sunggyu walks down the long hallway to the royal office, not once looking outside, all he can think about is work and responsibility, because he is the Lord Chancellor for the king of the country.

            He ignores the feeling of Howon’s stare on his back, and focus straight ahead.

 

*******

  
_Maybe I will laugh, in the thoughtless days my vain hopes_  
 _After a very long time I won’t be shameful_  
            

-Year 152X-

            The second time a traveler climbs up the hill is almost half a year, or maybe it’s a year or two, -the grave digger is not one to keep tab on time- since the first man did, and while the town has seen an influx of travelers, nobody really put that much interest on a hill filled with graves. The townspeople generally stay away, too, so when the grocer and his kid –who have grown considerably since then, maybe it’s been awhile indeed- knocks on his door with one, he is sure that he can’t really hide the surprise from showing on his face.

            The traveler is older than the one before, -Myungsoo, he remembers- and apparently he is a doctor of sort, traveling to help people, and that explains the anxious face on the father and son pair easily.

            “It’s been awhile since the townspeople saw you coming down, so, um.”

            He smiles at that, and gestures for the guests to sit on the long bench in front of the shack, but the grocer and his son refuses politely, saying they can’t leave the shop unattended, and make way to leave; he simply watches as the pair slowly walks down the path, the traveler remains silently beside him.

            “May I ask you something?”                                      

            He nods at that, and a good look at the traveler gives him the same nostalgic feeling like Myungsoo did before, that he can’t help but stare, as rude as it is. And maybe it’s the same to the other party; as they end up staring at each other instead, until he decides to break the silence.

            “What is it, Mr. Traveler?”

            The look of surprised on the man’s face is almost priceless.

            “I’m sorry, but I heard about your condition from an acquaintance, that is, um, that you don’t talk, so I was wondering if it has something to do with your vocal cord, or anything else; of course, that’s not why I’m here to begin with, for the townspeople were genuinely concerned on your well-being so…”

            He shakes his head, and laughs silently; clearly this traveler has met Myungsoo somewhere along the way, and he marvels at how small the world is.

            “I’m sorry for the confusion, but I am fine, Mr. Traveler.”

            He smiles reassuringly, and the man visibly relieved, to his delight.

            “Then, if I can inquire, why didn’t you say anything before?”

            He rubs the back of his neck unconsciously at that, for that is a common question since he replies to a greeting by the barber once before, but every time he still finds it hard to explain. He is not born mute, nor does he ever become mute, but somewhere along the way he just stops talking, and the prolong period of silence must have done something to his vocal cord, as it grates and hurts every time he tries to speak. He practices again from time to time, and only when he is confident enough that it is okay that he slowly begins to interact with the people.

            He wished he had said something to Myungsoo back then; if he did, he won’t feel half as bad as he did now.

            So he talks, voicing out the reason to the traveler, who listens intently.

            He never asked who the man is; simply because he doesn’t find the need to.

            Maybe, he thinks, this is enough.

 

*******

  
_All in all there's something to give_  
 _All in all there's something to do_  
 _All in all there's something to live_

 

 

-Year 150X-

            There is something about the neighboring country that gives off a familiar yet at the same time distant feeling; perhaps it’s the busier and more crowded roads, maybe it’s the loud voices of street sellers calling out for bargain, but most of all maybe it’s the lack of sense of belonging, like everything is simply detached to him.

            It is times and moments like this that strikes Sungyeol the most on how happy and lucky he is to be a citizen of his home country. Sure, the country is smaller now; the size of land under its reign had shrunk considerably due to the power struggle in the castle before the previous monarch banished most of the royal family and cut off all ties in an attempt to bring back peace to the land. Indeed the late monarch had succeeded, though it took almost a decade to bring it to the state it currently is today.

            On the other hand, the neighboring country had grown with a rapid pace, thanks to the open door policy in international relation within the region, though it is still strictly economy related. It is obvious from the abundant of foreign traders at the port, and the diversity of business available; from travel services to fishmongers all within the same vicinity.

            Sungyeol finds all this interesting, and perhaps Hoya thinks so too; as he is -more often than not- willing to hear him babbled about all the places he had been thanks to the official duties, and it ranges from anything to everything; the people, the policies, economy, government, and even simple stuff like what he ate or did along the stay.

            He has long figured out that His Highness only lounge at the port when he caught wind that he is returning, so as to get the stories, and the exhilarating feel from the travel didn’t wear off of him yet, that he can forego his rest and wound up talking for hours on end. In a way, he thinks, all the experience may broaden the king’s vision on building up the country, and if he can lend a hand, even just a bit, he will be very happy indeed.

            So Sungyeol never refuses official duties; even when he is tired as hell from walking on the previous trip, because that’s what one do when you’re a squire and official messenger for the castle, but also due to the simple fact that Hoya, no, King Lee Howon will always send him off with a smile, and well-wishes and every time that happens he can never blame Woohyun nor Sunggyu for working so hard for the monarch, not when the man is so kind towards his subjects, regardless of status.

            The previous monarch may not be the best king they ever have, but if there’s one thing the people should be grateful for him, is the decision to make Lee Howon crown prince, and succeed the throne.

            To parallel that to the neighboring country, the decision to make Jang Dongwoo the Lord Marshall may as well be the next best thing for the people. The Marshall is famous and loved by all, and rightfully so, as the man is kind and very intelligent for his age. It is well-known that the Marshall was the one that pitched the idea of expanding the budget in agriculture; which lead to massive land developments changed to farms and ranches instead, and effectively solves the food ration problem internally.

            In a way, he thinks, that is the door that open the relation between two countries now; while his home country is small and may be not as advanced in technology, the agriculture products has always been the best in region, exported almost to every country nearby. In exchange for the knowledge, the neighboring country brings over new technology in marine and boats, increasing the variety of incomes for the people.

            It’s a win-win situation, and to strengthen the relations every two years the representative of each country shall visit the other for the renewing of the relation and contracts between countries.

            This year, it is Crown Prince Lee Sungjong’s turn to make the visit; and will mark his first official visit since taking over the office due to the king’s declining health. Sungyeol has never met the crown prince, but there is a quiet discontent among the people at the decision, probably because they think the crown prince is too young for the post.

            How an outsider like him get to know that must be because of his lanky frame which looks, well, normal enough that nobody will suspect him to be a squire from another country, because everybody just willingly tells him stories about the castle, even stuffs like how the Lord Chancellor is yet to be selected, after the previous Chancellor passed away suddenly last year.

            The struggle within the castle must be a bad one indeed, he thinks, and the old man at the inn very much agrees with the thought, judging from the way his face contorted when he voiced it out during their talk last night. And if the drunken stupor of the old men at the bar to be taken as the voice of the people, then, the Marshall could sweep the throne right under the royal family’s feet and most of the citizens would not even bat an eyelash, as the man has proven his credibility throughout his time of service.

            This is why he cannot help but think that the Marshall, who smiles so wide and has a weird laugh when Sungyeol introduces himself to be the messenger from the next country instead of some lost traveler, is intriguing indeed. Not only he treats Sungyeol as if he is one of them; making him join the practice, showing him around with no care of anything, hell he even openly admit that there is a pressure in the castle for him to seize the throne.

            But there’s something about the look in his eyes when he spoke of the king and the crown prince, for it reminds him so much of a certain Nam Woohyun back home; that Sungyeol knows Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo is undoubtedly loyal, and fiercely so.

            He returns back with the reply letter from Crown Prince Lee Sungjong to see Hoya at his usual place by the port, the face lit up with a grin when he spots his face in the crowd, and Dongwoo’s parting words resounds in his mind.

            For out of the corner of his right eye he can see Woohyun, albeit with casual clothes instead of the usual dress uniform, hidden under the shade but still clear for him to see, eyes greeting him slightly before back to the newspaper, though Sungyeol knows better.

            Since those words, Sungyeol had heard them before, from their very own Lord Marshall himself, long before this trip.

            “I have only but one king, bar none.”

 

*******

  
_But all these days, they feel like they're the same_  
 _Just different faces, different names_

 

 

-Year 152X-

            For someone who is almost constantly on a long-distance travel, Kim Myungsoo is a rarity in which he travels way too lightly for one such trip -just a simple backpack on the shoulder- and that kind of making him a stand out among other fellow travelers.

            Some adds that his looks also attributes as much, though he begs to differ.

            He is also quite known as mysterious, promptly because he rarely talks about himself. He does not shun people, no; he is more than happy to share his experiences and stories of places, just, when people asks more about himself, about Kim Myungsoo, he will simply smiles, and says the same words.

            “I am but a traveler, a wanderer on Earth.”

            They will then drop the question altogether, not pursuing any further, to his relief.

            He hardly remembers anything about his hometown; he has travel way too far to trace his way back, and childhood memories are a blur in his head, except that he is an orphan -or a runaway, he always has the trouble of recalling those things- and the concept of family is so foreign to him it’s almost refreshing, in a twisted sort of way.

            Maybe that’s the reason he was so attached to the traveler, a man almost 10 years his senior who showed up one day at his caretaker’s -or is it his uncle’s- antique shop to buy a case, for the man is kind, ridiculously so, and never ran out of stories to tell whenever he drops by the man’s small cottage by the skirts of the town he lived in.

            The man told him about a country, its neighboring country, the castle and the king, the soldiers and the people, and everything sounds so magical to Myungsoo, as if it’s something out of a fairytale.

            Surely he is not a kid, and the people at the town are generally untrustworthy towards strangers, but there is something in the way his eyes shines so bright every time he speaks that make Myungsoo believes him, word by word.

            He still does, that he bets his own life and future on it.

            Later when he lies down and stares above, be it the starry sky or empty ceiling of some inn, he will always, always hugs his backpack tight, for it is the only constant in his life, the reassurance he never knew he needed to keep on going.

            The backpack is quite seasoned, a hand-me-down from the traveler back at his hometown, and it is filled with clothes and little trinkets; a worn-out journal from the said traveler, two journals of his own, a couple of pens, some stash of food for emergency, a tumbler full with water, and more.

            Still, there is hardly anything personal with him; no pictures, no mementos, nothing that can identify him with the name Kim Myungsoo, sans the journal. Even so, he doubts anybody will find it interesting anyway, with the way he describes things so monotonously; a habit he picked up when he keeps on referencing the old journal during his early days of traveling.

            If anything, the old journal has more life in it, and it gives him head ache every time he attempts something similar for his own, so he gives up on it a long time ago, and records mostly facts; the place, the history, the weather, the people, economy, source of income, government, anything worthy of mention.

            He avoids detailing specifically on certain subjects, to avoid attachment in general, and to fulfill his purpose of being an observer, but as he go through the journal again, he will see the mention of the grave digger back at the small growing port town, and he will let his mind wander again.

            As always, he will keep the thought to himself, perhaps, as he starts detailing on the place he almost died -for the lack of a better word-; the barren land of ruins, which used to be the center of a big and powerful country before the power struggle in the castle and plague sweeps its demise.

            His throat is still a bit hurt, and he still lost his voice, but when he regains it he will definitely ask more on this, for the man who is also his savior had smile softly, albeit with a different gleam in the eyes when he inquires on the place -using notes as method of communication- and he is sure there is more to this.

            Maybe, just maybe, he is a step closer to find that which he had been looking for.

            Myungsoo will not give up now, never, not after all these years.

            Not after thousand miles of walking, no.

            Not until he-


	2. Chapter 2

*******

  
_If I could stand up and take the blame I would_   
_I would take all the shame to the grave_

 

-Year 150X-

            From afar, the wind blows, as if it is a signal for something that is yet to be known.

            It sweeps his cheek gently, warm against his tousled hair, and Sungjong leans his side to the balcony, eyes staring above the dark sky, his mind wanders. He is supposed to retire early tonight; they are going for a long travel to the neighboring country tomorrow, but for some reason he feels unease by the whole thing, and there is no star in sight tonight to soothe his bundling nerves.

            They have prepared long and hard for this; the documents, the discussion topics, the establishment of relations, the arguments just in case, Sungjong has practiced and went over them a million times in order to ensure that he will do well. This is important to give off a good impression to King Lee Howon, but also to establish his position as the future king of the country to his own people.

            He knows that the palace’s position is rocky at best after the death of the Lord Chancellor, and he understands the people basically think of him as a puppet for the office, a perfect doll for the ministers to usurp the throne with the king ill on bed. And the chance for the overthrow to happen is the royal visit to drive him out of the country altogether.

            He knows what is going to unfold, which is why he requested Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo to come with him, despite the man’s position is to be by the king, especially when there is a possibility of the king assassinated.

            The Marshall must have thought this too, for the surprise coloring his face was obvious at the order, but the king has granted him the permission, and the ever so loyal Marshall is not one to disobey.

            And his father, the wise king, must have predicted things too, when he told the man.

            “From now on, your king is Crown Prince Lee Sungjong, Lord Marshall.”

            The Marshall had accepted it gracefully, and stays by his side ever since, that he is sure there are alarms ringing in the ministers head at the sight, which is a pleasure to Sungjong. The king has always said he is a cunning prince anyway, and his boyish look is nothing but a mask of innocence to display for everyone to see.

            After all, he is not going down without a fight, and if it means tearing down the castle and country, he will. He is fully prepared of any consequences, and is ready for all the blame. He doesn’t mind being the black sheep of the royal family, if it means his people can have a better future.

            He learnt from the previous monarch of the neighboring country, who pay the king a visit, some years ago, that a king is nothing without his subjects. And judging from the way the messenger -Lee Sungyeol if he recalls correctly- lights up visibly at the mention of his king, his successor King Lee Howon must have be a good person and monarch indeed.

            But if the man really do thinks about his people, then, why did he agreed with this visit, at this timing, knowing full well that they might got sweep into their internal problems? No matter how much thinking Sungjong did, he can’t seem to come to a reasonable answer, and it irks him much more than it should.

            Surely he can see this coming; that Sungjong is nothing but a trouble brewing black.

            Still, why?

            He turns around and repeats the question to Dongwoo, who has been there for awhile, standing silently behind the drapes, and he can see the man’s brow furrowed, before shaking his head softly.

            “Pardon me, your Highness, but I, too, can’t seem able to answer this.”

            Sungjong throws his gaze outside again, and squints hard, but his eyes meet nothing.

            Behind him Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo tightens his knuckles, it turns white.

            Meanwhile across the sea a certain Lee Howon is leaning on his balcony, hands clutching the newest letter from a king across the region, and doesn’t flinch when a soft, almost silent footstep stops a few feet behind him.

            He is too used to Woohyun sneaking up on him like that.

            “Your Highness, the preparations is almost complete.”

            He nods at that, and almost feels sorry for working Woohyun so hard. But then maybe everyone had already known, and long accepting it before he did, for he expected quite a fuss over the whole ordeal. Instead, the affair just moves seamlessly, as if predetermined long time ago.

            He almost feels bitter at that despite himself.

            “We’re now waiting for your order to proceed as planned.”

            He turns around and faces Woohyun this time, whose eyes are still as sharp as ever, standing tall in his black uniform, almost blending in with the dark room.

            “Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun, do you understand what’s happening now?”  
       
            The man nods, once, firm. Of course, he thinks, he is a soldier through and through.

            “Woohyun,” he starts, and there is a flicker in the dark brown eyes.

            “Answer me honestly, as an individual, as a person named Nam Woohyun.”

            Again, a nod, albeit a bit questioning in nature, as if he is hesitating.

            He is fine with that too.

            “Do you understand what’s going to happen now?”

            He is openly staring now, and he knows Woohyun will give him an answer.

            Like always.

            “I- I understand.”

            That is all he need, really, the hesitation, because he is cruel; to Woohyun who never disobey him, not even once, to Sunggyu who never questions him, working till late night at the royal office, to Sungyeol who is away again under his order and might never see his country ever again, to his people who always gives him strength, to Crown Prince Lee Sungjong who he will meet later, and especially to the late king, the previous monarch, for he will go down as the worst king in their history.

            He is going to destroy this country with his own hands.

            Howon throws his gaze outside again, and closes his eyes, meeting the darkness.

            Behind him Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun stands eerily still, hands limp on the side.

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_Some things we don't talk about, rather do without_   
_And just hold a smile_

 

-Year 152X-

            The traveler watches and listens, as the man known as the grave digger talks, softly at first, about the reason he didn’t talk before, and proceeds to talk about the place and the people, his eyes shines so bright it hurts. In turn, the traveler shares about the places he had been, the people he had met, with carefully constructed words, and from time to time the grave digger will nods knowingly, signaling for him to continue.

            There is something about the way the man listens intently, how his eyes soften, and a smile tugging at the corner of the lips. The wind blows gently around them and he is tempted, very much so, to stop going round the corners, once he confirmed that the man had met Myungsoo before.

            There is just no escaping this, he thinks, not in this lifetime.

            He already rules out amnesia, or any other possible health problem that might stop the grave digger from speaking beyond the town’s current situation, but he just can’t seem to ask directly, for fear of being shunned away instead.

            Or rather, he doesn’t think he is in any position to do so. Not when he, too, keeps on skirting the topic, avoiding any mention of history. Still, he thinks, screw this, and he is about to say it when the man beat him to it.

            “Are we going to keep dancing around like this, Mr. Traveler?”

            In the end, he is still the same helpless person, as he was years ago, for he can only smile, tongue-tied. Instead, the grave digger takes his hand, roughens by years, and gives it a squeeze.

            “Let’s talk, and let it go.”

            His heart almost stops beating right there and then.

            “Before this life, too, come to pass.”

            He is sure the man can feel his hand trembling despite himself.

            “Lord Marshall.”

            It takes all of his willpower not to cry.

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_I hit you and you hit me back_   
_We fall to the floor, the rest of the day stands still_

 

-Year 150X-

            There is something about the country that feels a bit off, Dongwoo thinks, as they walk on the main road; perhaps it’s the less busy road compare to his home country, perhaps the mainly closed shops, but most of all it’s the people crowding up the side of the road with warm smiles on their faces, welcoming the small convoy made of Crown Prince Lee Sungjong on the horse, him, and 10 trusted soldiers directly under the Marshall’s command as they march down the road towards the hill, where the palace stands tall.

            Dongwoo knows he shouldn’t doubt the sincerity of people, especially when they are here as the guests instead of the host, but he just can’t seem able to shake off the weird feeling that nestled in him ever since they step foot on the land, as if an invisible dark cloud is hanging all over the country.

            He steals a glance at the crown prince, who is a bit overwhelmed by the whole thing, judging from the way he grips the rein a bit too tightly. He wouldn’t blame the prince though, for it is a totally different reception from the people back home; all calm and polite smiles as the convoy marched on the busy street. Still, he has to hand it to the young man; for the face remains composed as ever, befitting of his title.

            He smoothes his dark maroon dress uniform, adjusted the kepi, and walks on confidently.

            At the end of the long main street stood men in black dress uniforms, and unconsciously he skim through the faces, looking for the tall squire and messenger, only to catch the eye of one young man at the end of the line instead.

            In fact, the soldier actually stares at him openly -or is it a dazed look instead - and one elbow on the side seems to do the trick, for it snaps him out of the reverie, and Dongwoo is left biting the inside of his cheeks to ensure that he doesn’t laugh right there and then.

            And Dongwoo for sure can never imagine the young man to be an assistant Marshall, who goes by L instead of a proper name, and leads them up the hill with 2 other by his sides, the rest of the line starts dissolving slowly to their respective positions.

            The walk up the hill is quite short, though that may be because he is admiring the scenery unfolding before him. There is nothing but deep forests behind the hill, though he spies farms and ranches, as well as terraces. Facing the palace is the entirety of the town, and the blue sea that separates both countries. As expected, he can’t see his home land from up here, though maybe he can catch a glimpse of it if he squints hard enough.

            The palace itself is quite simple, and not as grand in decoration or style, though there is a thrill behind his spine when L leads them along the Hall of Mirrors before stopping at the end of the long hallway, right at the start of the west wing of the castle. The young man knocks on a huge door, sharp and precise, before opening it wide and stepping aside to make way for the crown prince and him; the rest of the convoy stand a few feet with the castle’s guards behind them.

            Before them sits King Lee Howon on the throne, who welcomes them warmly and rises to greet their crown prince. He catches eye with a man wearing an overcoat standing at the right side of the throne and yet another young soldier who stands by the left side of it. He recognizes them as the Lord Chancellor and the Lord Marshall of the country almost immediately.

            It still astonished him on how young these people seems to be to rule a country,  -not saying anything on how he seems almost the same age with them anyways- but then he takes a look at King Lee Howon himself and it’s not hard to understand. The king is young, but his eyes shine with confidence and charisma, something he hoped he will see in their future king.

            After the brief obligatory introduction and formalities, they were shown around the castle by His Highness himself, who clearly intends to make them feel as comfortable as much as possible, and they appreciates it very much, though there is something about the hardness of his eyes that makes him wonder.

            Later when His Highness excuses himself and the crown prince retires at the guest chamber; he catches sight of Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun at the palace’s garden, his dark hair glistens under the sunlight, the kepi left forgotten on a hedge nearby. Beside him, Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu stands with slumped shoulders, heads lowered, and even when he can only see their backs, he understands.

            That is all he needed to see, to know that something is wrong. There is yet a sight of a certain squire by the name of Lee Sungyeol; which means either he is on a different duty or away with another message to another country. And he is not a Lord Marshall for nothing to not notice that the majority of the townspeople are actually all soldiers; there is something about army people’s aura that stood out to him, that he can recognize one in a crowd anywhere.

            King Lee Howon has prepared, and even anticipates it to happen; the war.

            Still, he cannot help but feels as if there is something missing.

            He turns and makes way to the guest room instead, the gears in his head turning, just when Sunggyu turns around and stares at the spot he stood a few seconds ago. Woohyun chuckles lightly and remarks that Dongwoo has caught L’s staring disease, to Sunggyu’s amusement.

            Above them dark clouds are brewing, brought by the wind across the sea.

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_I’m bad at things like this_   
_Where to start, what to do_

 

-Year 152X-

            Following the guide from the old journal and the bits of story from the traveler he met at the ruins, Myungsoo walks on to a new country, one that was said to grow and profits considerably after the war. Even when the officials had denied it time and time again and there is lack of concrete proof for the argument -despite being the closest country to the affected area at the time of the war, and has since expanded its territory to reach almost the far end of the region instead-, it’s hard not to think so; with the way the greens greets him as far as the eye can see. One can see that agriculture is clearly this country’s strong point, despite the main export being technology and man power.

            And there is a reason why the country is so unpopular among travelers; the people here are hardly friendly, and uphold the ‘what you see is what you get’ rule, sealing their mouth shut about almost everything, keeping outsiders at an arm’s length. If anything, they keep a close knit among them, which might stems from the fact that the King Kim Jongwan is a bit traditional for a monarch, and keeps a quiet presence among the rulers in the region.

            Myungsoo still doesn’t know if coming here is the right decision, considering the long travel that may or may not be a waste of his time, but he had been to almost every country at the region and even if it contributes nothing to his goal, it doesn’t hurt to add something new on his own journal, which has grown to be his most prized possession ever.

            He reaches a small village that is the farthest from the main city, nearing the border to the next region, and is awestruck at the scenery, which may come down as one of the best he had ever seen in his life; the mountain stood tall with the peak covered with snow, the surrounding forests covered in mist, the field of flowers on each side of the road, and simple cottages spread out, a simple garden or field by its side, filled with vegetables of various kinds.

            He continues walking along when a loud thud resounds on his left, as if something heavy just drop on the ground. He turns carefully, and there is a man -a farmer, perhaps, as he stands on his own set of field crops- staring straight at him, his mouth opens slightly, sweat glistens down his sharp jaw.

            “L…?”

            He almost drops his backpack at that; for it is not the first time somebody mistaken him as a certain soldier -assistant Marshall, in fact, though he still can’t get use to the idea of him having a face similar to such a high-rank personnel in an army- but only a select few have the idea on the name, as ridiculous a single alphabet as a name goes.

            He braves himself and walks closer, watching as the man stand shock still, and bows.

            “Hello,” he starts, and for a second he thought maybe it’s not a good idea; what if the man picked up the shovel and flung it at him? Who knows who this person might be? Either way he must be a soldier; or used to be one, to call him L, he thinks.

            Instead, the man bows back at him, shaking the head a bit, and smiles softly.

            “Sorry, you…look a lot like somebody I used to know.”

            That is surprising, he thinks, for usually people will feign ignorance at that, something he is, sadly, kind of get used to. It’s very rare for a person to acknowledge that, and he caught himself feeling a bit courageous, or maybe a tad reckless all in one.

            “I heard that a lot.”

            There is no evident hint of surprise at all, as if totally stating that yes; they are indeed that similar, perhaps. The man picks up the shovel, eyes focusing on the crops, and he berates himself for getting tongue-tied. He has never been good at communicating with people, despite dealing with them every single time.

            At times like this he often finds himself wondering, if L is better at this than he is.

            “Would you like some water or something?”

            He lifts his head so fast he is seeing stars, and a light chuckle greets his ears.

            He nods, regaining his senses as he makes his way to where the man is standing by the door before disappears inside. He stood awkwardly there, leaning against the wall when the man shows up again with a flask of water, motioning him to come in and sit at the chair by the side of the door, and remarks something about hot weather and he needs a break from farming anyway.

            He gratefully accepts the glass, and gulps it down slowly, savoring the feel of cool water in his throat, and almost chokes it out when he caught a sight of a kepi on the low table at the corner.

            He knows that headdress so well, and the insignia inscribed on it, for he had admired the design every time he sees the drawing of it in the old journal in his backpack. And it must have been so obvious on his face, for the man is now staring hard at him, eyes narrowed and fist clenched.

            “Give me your name, where you’re from, and the purpose you’re here.”

            The man sounds eerily calm, though he knows better as it sends shiver down his spine.

            Slowly, he puts the glass down, his hands shaking slightly, betraying his stoic facade.

            “I am-

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_Knowing my lacking and knowing my greed_   
_I am not arrogant about the things I have_

 

-Year 150X-

            True to predictions, as if it’s in the schedule all along, there are sightings of the neighboring country’s army at the border between both countries just 2 days after the arrival of the convoy. Crown Prince Lee Sungjong just finished presenting their side of agreement when L came in, reporting the situation.

            For a full minute there is an unbreakable silence at the round table.

            To be perfectly honest, Sungjong is not surprised; that just means the ministers have finally assassinate the king and announce it as the king succumbed to his long illness, seize the power of the army, and now ready to take the convoy back under the pretext of ‘securing the safety of the new king’ when all they want is make him the king and control everything behind the scene. To soothe the people they might make Dongwoo the Lord Chancellor to retain the support to the palace -they know the Lord Marshall is the only one powerful and influential enough to stop them anyway- and to avoid rebellion within the army and the citizens.

            Sungjong almost scoffed at the thought; too predictable, he thinks.

            And he might just nail it from the way Dongwoo just nods at the news.  
        
            After what feels like an eternity, King Lee Howon breaks the silence with a sigh and -Sungjong can never guess this- a smile.

            “Too predictable, I say.”

            He watches as Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu rolls his eyes and Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun brings his hand to his mouth, probably to stop himself from actually snickering out loud. Dongwoo actually laughs beside him, the sound ringing in his ears.

            Guess that’s it then, he thinks, as he relaxes into the chair, and smirks, eyes lazy.

            “Indeed it is.”

            There is a glint in King Lee Howon’s eyes, as the man smiles openly.

            “I hope you like this place, Crown Prince, for you might have to prolong your stay.”

            Sungjong laughs this time; he really likes this monarch’s brand of humor.

            “It’s king now, Your Highness, and thank you for the hospitality; I’ll enjoy this.”

            The feeling might in fact be mutual, from the way the host laughs easy at that remark.  
       
            Immediately after that they cleared the table from all the papers and documents, and proceed to play chess instead, to which he won 2 out of 3 games, all the while chattering about anything and everything but the situation they are currently in.

            He can almost hear the Chancellor muttering something about weird monarchs.

            Later he joins Howon for tea at the Hall of Mirrors and dismisses Dongwoo, ordering him to prepare for any possibilities of an attack or help Woohyun and Sunggyu instead. He starts to breathe easy when they are left alone at the long hallway, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the other king. Yet, the man said nothing, and they enjoy the silence, until Howon starts.

            “I’m not signing the agreement this year.”

            Go figure, he thinks.

            “And I’m not returning King Lee Sungjong and his convoy back to their country.”

            He puts the cup back on the low table between them.

            “Your army will breech the border after the next 48 hours at most.”

            Maybe earlier than that, but he digress.

            “We are fully prepared here.”

            Obviously, he can see it from the very first day he arrived.

            “Majority of the citizens have been evacuated to another country.”

            He stills at that, and turns to face the monarch, whose face is totally calm, as if they are just discussing the weather. As if evacuating the people, the subjects, the very reason a king can uphold his position; out of his very own land is the most normal thing to do.

            Yes, he himself had made a plan of destroying his own palace; for him a country does not necessarily need a king anyway, but a country cannot survive without the people, no. An abandoned country is just like an inhabited island. The technology, the buildings, the long history and traditions; everything will be lost forever without another generation to pass it to.

            King Lee Howon is not just destroying the palace; he is crushing his own country.

            His thoughts must have been transparent on his face, for the monarch smiles at him, softly, apology in his eyes.

            “I intended for this war to happen, right from the start.”

            He wants to ask why, but stops himself from blurting it out, as it dawns on him.

            It all makes sense now, everything is.

            “So the rumor is true, then.”

            He can see Howon gripping the armchair, so hard his fist turns white.

            “The plague is here.”

            Out of the corner of his eye he can see Sunggyu at the end of the hall, clutching the documents as if his life depended on it, and stands still, rooted on the ground.

            He throws his gaze outside and watches as dusk coloring the sky orange and red, and feels his shoulders sagged against the chair, his heart sinking. He pretends he doesn’t hear Dongwoo falls on his knees with a thud so loud behind the half-closed door, it echoes.

            For the first time in a long while, he feels like crying.

            So much it hurts.

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for awhile_   
_Tell me of a story never ever told in the past_

 

-Year 151X-

            The first time a much younger Kim Myungsoo visits the traveler at his cottage is when he runs an errand for the owner of the antique shop he works for -or is it the bakery? He can’t remember- and nearly drops the package on the man’s feet when the door opens. Flustered, he apologizes profusely, but the man simply laughs and invites him in. 

            He can barely recall the interior, for it’s as simple as one can get; simple couches, low table, just the necessities, but he remember being so fascinated by little trinkets adorning the walls and shelf’s; portraits, colored pictures, small cases, embroidery, and much more stuffs he never seen elsewhere before.

            He was so engrossed with them that he didn’t realize the man is watching him until a hand ruffles his head, bringing him back to reality. Stunned, and feeling utterly terrified of being scolded, he bolts out of the door, ignoring the calls behind him.

            They met again a couple of days later, when Myungsoo is out on an errand again. This time, though, the man smiles softly, and actually apologizes, for scaring him. He was astonished to say the least; for he is the one who should apologize, and when he said it out loud, the man simply laughs, and pets his hair.

            “You are very kind, Myungsoo.”

            Needless to say, that was the start of their friendship, which remains for many years to come. For Myungsoo, it had been a routine, almost, to bid the man with well-wishes at the start of each trip and to go over the cottage whenever the traveler returns from his long trips with stories to tell, new trinkets on the shelf and occasional gifts to Myungsoo, who will gladly receive them and -he will never tell this- kept carefully in a case he bought with his first salary.

            Every time, the traveler will talk about anything and everything, and Myungsoo can never, ever feel bored by it. He had been living at the small village his entire life as far as he can remember, and the man’s story is the only hope he holds when he lies down on bed at night, that he, too, can leave the place someday.

            Because of that, too, he secretly asked the man to teach him self-defense when he gets a bit older, and skills that might be necessary for trips, like cooking and stuff, to which the traveler gladly indulges him.

            The routine continues until he turns 20.

            He remembers it well, somehow; it was calm, and cool summer night; he is lying down on the ground after yet another failed attempt to launch a sneak attack on the traveler, who laughs merrily at his fail. He had grown tall, and had taken to do farm works to build his strength these recent years, dark bangs reaching his eyes.

            “Myungsoo,” the man starts, as he lifts his body up to a sitting position.

            There was something different in the eyes that night; he can’t place what it is.

            “There is one thing I didn’t tell you.”

            The air is chilly, and it sends a fit of shiver down his back.

            “Promise me, that you will keep this yourself, until the day you die.”    

            He doesn’t hesitate at all when he nods at that, and the man might have seen that coming, for he only smiles before going back into the cottage and returns with a backpack, one that he knew so well, for the traveler always use it and only it every time he is away.

            He watches as the man brings out an old journal and hands it to him. He flips through it to see nothing but handwritten notes, and illustrations filling the thick journal, all the way to the last page.

            “That, is all the memories I have from my home land.”

            A knot starts forming in his stomach, for the man had never, not even once, bring up the place he origins from. He had tempted to ask, time and time again, but he is too much a coward for possible confrontations. The journal feels heavy in his hands, and after a reassurance nod, he opens and reads the first page.

            They stay like that, in silence, until he finished everything.

            He had heard of the story before, about a country with a young king, and its neighboring country. How a war erupted between both countries and a plague sweeps them both under its feet, collapsing everything. He had heard of it so much, he can recite it by heart. He had guessed that it must be an important matter, for the traveler to retell the story over and over again, but never in his wildest dreams can he imagine this.

            The traveler was one of the living citizens of the forgotten country.

            And somewhere out there, all the people in the story; the king, the soldiers, the royal officers, they might be alive somewhere. He understands now, why the traveler never stops traveling, despite having a place he can call home.

            “Myungsoo,” the traveler calls, softly.

            The man must be searching for them, and the truth about the land.  
       
            His eyes unconsciously lands on the other’s hand, gripping hard on the legs. He had seen the doctor coming out of the cottage this afternoon, and he knew.

            There is no such thing like walking forever.

            He owes the man so much, for giving him a dream he never knew he wanted.

            “I will look for them, Sungyeol-hyung.”

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_All things keep flowing_   
_In this world, there is no end_

 

-Year 150X-

            Looking back at it now, Howon thinks, it was a very normal day.

            The sun is bright above them, and the wind is dancing in his hair, the seagulls flying effortlessly makes for quite spectacular scenery. Hoya is sitting at his usual spot at the port; relaxing after 2 days of coping in the royal office with Sunggyu, going through the agreement for this year’s contract with the neighboring country.

            Sure, there is still quite some time before the expiry date of the previous agreement, but trust the Chancellor to prepare everything in advance. Quoting the elder; we never know what will happen next, so do tomorrow’s work today in order to buy more time later.

            In a way, he agrees with the quote, but he always wishes the Lord Chancellor will just take it easy and actually rest, seriously. He swears the man works a bit too hard every single time. Shaking his head at the thought, he focuses on searching for the usual lanky frame of Sungyeol only to freeze mid-wave.

            For Sungyeol is wearing a full uniform instead of the usual casual clothes, complete with the kepi, and behind him is another similarly dressed man, except the color is royal blue. He recognizes the color and insignia anywhere, for it stands out in his memory.

            Dread starts pooling at his stomach, for nothing is ever good if Sungyeol comes back like that, more so when there’s another person with him, and he is sure Woohyun can read his thought -he needs to tell the Marshall sometime that disguises is utterly useless when the opponent can see him clearly- as he rushes back to the castle, using shortcuts to ensure he arrives earlier than the messengers. He can almost hear Woohyun’s footsteps behind him, but he has no time to turn back and confirm it.                

            He must look so bad that everyone basically rushes aside when he pass by, and Sunggyu almost drops the pile of documents on his hands when he storms in the royal office, grabbing the royal garb, and proceed to change into the royal outfit without a word. He hears Woohyun’s voice floats softly before the door shuts behind him, confirming his earlier thoughts, as he starts controlling his breathing in order to calm himself down.

            Had it been other king’s royal messenger, he might not be as shaken as he is now, really. But it’s King Kim Jongwan, and the monarch never sends the royal messenger -the squire named Lee Junghoon- for trivial matter. It’s always just letters from Lord Chancellor Lee Jaekyung, and if it’s something that requires his presence, chances he will send Lord Marshall Jung Jaewon instead, that not many people outside of his country had seen how the ruler looks like.

            He actually grips a pen so hard it snaps into two in his hands, just when there is a soft knock on the door, before it opens and Sunggyu steps in, announcing the arrival of a royal messenger from King Kim Jongwan. He nods at that, face neutral, and walks out to receive the guest.

            He ignores the grave look on the Chancellor’s face, and prepares for the worst.

            And indeed, he thinks, there can’t be anything worse than this.

            He watches how the Chancellor goes paler every second, white as face as a sheet -if that is even possible- and the Marshall gritting his teeth so hard, veins popping out at the side of his head. Sungyeol just stands there, face blank, as Junghoon talks; and he has to hand it to the royal messenger for being so straightforward; the man does not even bother to mince his words.

            Not that it will do anyone any good anyway. If anything, he is grateful for the honesty.

            “Allow me to apologize for bearing such news to you, Your Highness.”

            He shakes his head at that, softly thanking the messenger, for making a long trip for this. The man bites his lips and lowers his head instead, before he is dismissed. The door shuts with L escorting the messenger to the guest chamber, and the silence that follows the echo is almost deafening.

            To be perfectly honest, Howon has thought of the possibility at the back of his mind, when the draught worsens by day and the amount of crops dying increases tenfold than usual. The nagging thought stays put in his head when he helped the old farmer the other day, how the soil is not as rich and dry in his hands. As a ruler of a country that deals with agriculture, he had taken upon himself to learn everything there is need to know about it; from the soils to the crop, from the farming process to harvesting, all the way to exports in quality and quantity.

            That is how the country have managed to hold itself together, all these years, after the plague that strikes the country and the area of region half a century ago, killing every soil and plant, deriving the people from the main source of food, which lead to great hunger and high rate of death in people.

            The previous monarch had been so young when he took over the throne, just when they barely survive the disaster, and spent the whole of his life designing ways to enrich the land, all while struggling in the palace. He remembered, so well, when the first crop he worked with the late king was harvested; the monarch had been so happy he cried, for no one believed in him and his orthodox ways, not even the people in the palace. The techniques was applied to every land at the country immediately after, and the result was astounding, to say the least.

            The country starts to prosper, and Howon thought they were invisible, until the monarch fell ill due to long time of overworking. He had been young then, still in his teens, when the king announced him, the crown prince to take over the post at the royal office, and dismissed the Chancellor and Marshall at the time, telling him to pick his own people.

            Needless to say there is an outrage within the palace, to which the monarch simply banished everyone out; the man was always stubborn to a fault. There is few to no resistance from the people, who had come to love the king, and so the royal family begins to scatter apart, and announce the cut of relation with the country, effectively diminishing the territory under the control of the palace.

            The monarch, he remembered, just laugh it off, saying it’s easier to handle smaller country and manage the economy. Howon had agreed immensely with that.

            And so he picked Kim Sunggyu, the young teacher at the local school and his tutor as the Lord Chancellor, for the man is arguably bright for his age, always bringing up unconventional and new ideas to improve and grows the country. The king had liked him immediately after Sunggyu simply criticize the usage of portraits to cover the side of the long hallway on his first visit to the palace, deeming it unsightly and boring -he had no idea he was talking to the king of the country, by the way- and the monarch had re-enact the situation to him hilariously before changing it all to mirrors and named it the Hall of Mirrors, just to spite the young Chancellor.

            Howon knows Sunggyu hates the hallway the most, if only because it reminds him of the late king. They get along well, and the king always addresses him as his friend, to which the Chancellor honors greatly.

            In the contrary, he picked Nam Woohyun, the very talented soldier despite his age as the Lord Marshall to balance their personality, for the man is quiet and stiff at times, but can be highly manipulative, which is a good counter to Sunggyu’s straight-as-an-arrow ways. The man actually manages to make the Chancellor change his schedule not once, but twice in the span of less than 24 hours, to the king’s amusement. Woohyun, too, had come to dearly love the king, who is not afraid to cut him in the middle of practice -nobody stops Nam Woohyun in his serious mode, and not when he is holding his sword- just for a game of chess.

            Howon never knows what the king told the Marshall on his deathbed, but whatever it was, it seemed to do him good, for he starts to mature considerably -though the man still keeps on pulling pranks once in awhile with Sungyeol- and starts to open up to people, in which he is always grateful for.

            A soft sound of a broken twig snaps him out of his reverie, and he turns to see L a few feet behind him, eyes downcast. He smiles at the man, and beckons him closer, to which he did, after a few moment of hesitation. In a way, L is almost the odd one out in the castle but also the closest to each trait of another’s personality. He is quiet like Woohyun, but extremely so that it’s hard to hear him utter a word; he is smart like Sunggyu, but has his moment of fail when he zones out too much, but most of all he is unpredictable, since he is the most un-soldier-like soldier in the army after Sungyeol, that it is almost amazing how he is made the assistant Marshall.

            Hell, if only the late king had the pleasure of knowing this man; he will make him the second Lord Marshall in a heartbeat, just for the kicks. The monarch had attempted to create the post for Sungyeol, when his prank drives the whole palace in frenzy and amused him to no end, but stops after both Sunggyu and Woohyun threaten to leave their post instead.

            Personally, Howon always have a soft spot on L, if only because he is always there, when he is tired to be Howon the ruler but too responsible to let loose like the smiley Hoya, when he is just a man, simply, him. And L never said a thing, never judge him; he just simply sit there, and listens to whatever he wants to say, even when he is in front of the late monarch, Lee Jungyeob’s tombstone, and never afraid to say his opinion when he ask for it, like now.

            “This is your country, Your Highness. You own it, so do as you please.”

            He stares at the man as if he just grown a second head, and L -bless the guy- simply stares back, like always. He is too stunned that he just laughs, incredulously, without a care of anything, clutching his stomach with a hand and the assistant Marshall’s shoulder with another.

            Trust L to say things like that with a straight face, really. Of course he will-     

            “You are the king, Howon. This country is yours to take.”

            The late king’s last words echoes in his mind, effectively stops him mid-laugh.

            “Screw responsibilities; just do what you want, what you deem right.”

            They were rumors that L can communicate with ghosts circulating around when he first arrived, particularly because he always stares into empty spaces. Nobody actually confirms the truth, though it turns out Sungyeol is the one that starts the rumor, and everybody knows better than to believe the man and his 1001 rumors about the palace.

            He is neither a believer in ghosts nor do he is one to believe in rumors, but maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind seeing one now, perhaps.

            “Have faith, Howon.”

            He smiles to the confused L, and makes his way back in the palace; an idea hatched itself inside his head. He spends the next few days confining in the royal office and archives, opening back old journals and notes from the late king’s life-long researches, all to concoct a plan to ensure no one will die this time. The plague will not take anyone from him, no, not under his reign.

            He loves his people, so much, that he is willing to sacrifice everything.

            Thus everything he gives, for he basically orders Sunggyu and Woohyun to accept the plan instead of the usual round table, abusing his powers for the first time since he take the post years ago, and like L said, doing as he pleases.

            Just when he is ready to go down as a tyrant, an opportunity shows itself, in the form of a war with the shaky neighboring country. If the country be in a war, nobody will question the need to remove all citizens and abandon it in the process. Admittedly he had been reluctant to take it at first, for the idea of having another country involved doesn’t sit well with him, until Sunggyu points out that he will actually save everyone the trouble of doing the explaining -something the Chancellor clearly knows he dislike.

            He knows Crown Prince Lee Sungjong will have to come over for the agreement, and it is an open secret that the politics in the palace is the worst people have seen in the region since their very own late king’s banishment of the royal family, so he made a deal with the king -start the war in exchange for guaranteed safety of the crown prince throughout the whole ordeal- way before the agreement date.

            Sunggyu calls him ridiculous -what kind of a king will start a war just because the neighboring king asked him to- but Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo pays a visit to the palace, under a secret order of the king, to convey his agreement, instead.

            The king, as it turns out, simply wants to pay the favor he owes to the late king, and if it means Howon can be friendly with his son, the crown prince; it will be an added bonus. Woohyun had actually snickers at that, calling the late king a savior in unexpected timing while Sunggyu seethes, muttering something like troll monarch under his breath. The indescribable look on the Lord Marshall’s face prompting Howon to ask, and Woohyun roars with laughter when Dongwoo openly admits he doesn’t understand his own king’s decision either, which doesn’t help matters in Sunggyu’s headache and stress-level.

            He can feel the questioning eyes of the Lord Marshall on him, but he only smiles.

            What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him, he thinks, for he had actually mentioned the plague in the letter to the king, albeit in a passing remark. And in the reply letter brought by the Lord Marshall is the confirmation about the matter; apparently Lord Marshall Jung Jaewon had pay them a visit not long after the royal messenger Lee Junghoon return, under the pretext of friendly visit due to the concern over the king’s health.

            King Kim Jongwan really knows exactly how to get things going, it’s almost amazing.

            Which leads to the present predicament, as the fleet of army from the neighboring country approaches their shoreline. It is earlier than he thought, and when he mentioned it King Lee Sungjong just shrugs in response, to his amusement. But then the other king must have known his army better than anyone anyway.

            Not like it will change anything at this point now.

            The last of the citizens had been successfully moved out of the country, via the forest road that leads them straight to the skirts of King Kim Jongwan’s country. He had made a deal with the king after the confirmation of the war; to take refuge of all his people in exchange to all knowledge of agriculture collected over the years. Sunggyu had said that he was too generous; he countered back that the people are a lot more worthy than a bunch of documents.

            The move was done in stages, a couple of small families at times, so as to not arouse suspicions. Every time a group of soldiers in 3’s will be in disguise to escort them and make the necessary arrangements, before reporting to Sungyeol who is working closely with Junghoon at the country’s palace in order to ensure everything goes smoothly. In the wake of the situation King Kim Jongwan had prepared small villages at inconspicuous places for the people, and alerted his own citizens on the situation, to which they welcome openly, to Howon’s gratefulness.

            The people there, too, according to Sunggyu were not natives of the land; most of them were people under the colonial states that used to be under the late king’s reign, which met its demise in a way or another, and by some weird twist of fate, come to be under the reign of King Kim Jongwan.

            In a way, he thinks, it’s like King Kim Jongwan just took over the whole country instead, albeit indirectly. Woohyun actually frowned at that, and walked out quietly; something he does whenever he is displeased with something but can’t find it in him to voice it out loud.

            L took to apologized and bowed deeply before hitting him with a document on behalf of his superior, and Sunggyu glared at him, before launching into a full-on lecture about responsibilities and keeping some thought to self instead of saying it.

            Howon understands that regardless of the situation, he is their king, and King Kim Jongwan had made it clear that he had no intention of making the people swore their loyalty to him and the country -they can come and go as they please- for the world is a huge place to be. That is one of the main reason the people agreed to the move, for there is always the possibility of them returning, and Howon don’t have the heart to tell them don’t instead.

            He doesn’t think he holds the right to say anything, not after he had failed them. He keeps that thought to himself, of course, for Sunggyu will lecture him again -this time maybe on pride and royalty- and Woohyun might break something out of frustration, so he holds his tongue.

            He keeps everything in, and watches from the middle section of the Hall of Mirrors as Lord Marshal Nam Woohyun took his place at the main road below them, Assistant Marshall L beside him, going through the strategy one last time, the squads of soldiers in positions, ready for the attack. Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu is shaking slightly beside him, and King Lee Sungjong’s face is eerily blank as he sits there, motionless, while Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo stealing glances here and then at him.

            King Lee Howon closes his eyes, and hears the first fire.


	3. Chapter 3

*******

  
_Younger now than we were before_   
_Don't let me go, don't let me go, don't let me go_

 

-Year 152X-

            The traveler sits there, eerily still, his mind blank.

            It had been too long, way too long for this, and he had known, from the very start, when he told Myungsoo about the country, about the war, what little he known about the plague, for he himself don’t have the full account of what happened, just bits and pieces, thus the journey, for he can never forgive himself if he lives on just like this.

            He was a soldier, and while he never goes back to army and politics, he prided himself as one, and lives on with the policy intact in him. There was only one king for him, and still is, that he can’t settle down somewhere, not until he knows what had happened to the one person he swore his loyalty to.

            He came looking for answers, despite it hurts so much to step on this land again, and he knows it will be in vain anyway, but Myungsoo told him about a certain grave digger, one with descriptions so clear it hits his nostalgia so hard he can’t breathe, and now he is here, facing the person from his past again.

            “Are you okay?”

            He lifts his head at that, and smiles, albeit a bit shaky, for he is so overwhelmed by everything. He exhales, deep and slow, steadying himself.

            “I’m okay. I- I’m fine.”

            The man doesn’t look as convinced, but he smiles wider, and it hit him.

            “Before we start, though, there is something I need to clear with you.”

            The grave digger nods, and signals for him to continue.

            “I am- no, even at that time, I was no longer the Lord Marshall for the country.”

            He can almost see himself in the man’s eyes, years ago, in dark maroon uniform.

            “I was, and still is, simply a man named Jang Dongwoo.”

            Looking back, he thinks, it was at this place, too, when it all happened.

            It had been a clear day, and the war had lasted longer than everyone thought it will be, with landslide victory on Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun’s troops on the first day of the attack. He had admired the strategy used by the younger soldier, luring the enemy -as weird as it is to call it this considering he was still the head of the said enemy at that time- to the land before ambushing with higher number of soldiers. The plan is consistent, and brilliant if he may say so himself; utilizing the various kind of ecology on the land to their full advantage. It also helps that their army is not as highly trained, or the minister just decide to send inexperienced troops instead, clearly underestimating the power of King Lee Howon’s army.

            He had analyzed it all with next to no hard feelings, despite wearing the same uniform, and actually face-palmed at one time, when a lone soldier accidentally shoots his own legs instead of the enemy. King Lee Sungjong was worse, though, for he was laughing at the failure of his own soldiers, and he swears he can see Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu rolling his eyes at one point.

            The ministers must had feel the heat at the defeat, for they send a bigger troop the next 2 days, and he noted the difference this time around, as headlining the troop is the second squad, which trained directly under him along with the first squad. The second squad, which is higher in numbers, specializes in attacking while the first squad made up the convoy that protects the king outside of the castle.

            The first squad members were all with him, in the palace at the moment, protecting the king from, ironically, their own army. He had gathered his men before, and giving them the freedom on choosing the side they want to be in, and they all stick with him and the king, to which he feels his chest welling with pride. Some even suggest they join forces with Woohyun’s troops, to which the man refused.

            “I don’t want to be hold responsible if I accidentally hit your men, Lord Marshall.”

            He was tempted to point out that technically, all of the army was his men, but he stops himself. Besides, it will do no good on the king’s part, for his convoy to join what the people might dub the enemy’s army.

            Objectively speaking, the second squad might win the battle, for he knows their ability better than anyone, but then he never knows what trick Woohyun has in his sleeves, and if King Lee Howon really intended for the war to happen then why-

            His whirling thought came to a screeching halt when he saw the formation of Woohyun’s troops that fateful day, for the man has brought out the cannon, situated at the middle of the main road, straight on their vision.

            The mouth is heading towards the palace, instead of the upcoming troop.

            They were at the end of the long, long hallway, on the East side while King Lee Howon and Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu were at the other end, eyes never leaving the outside. He watches the bewildered look on his men mirroring his own, and King Lee Sungjong is still; face hard.

            “Dongwoo,” he calls, and his attention turns to his king.

            He watches how the monarch’s eyes never leave Woohyun.

            “Say that you will be loyal to me.”

            There is chaos behind him, but Woohyun stays still, eyes fixed on the palace.

            “And never disobey me, despite anything, anything at all.”

            L stands a few feet behind his superior officer, never once turning back.

            “Yes, I will, Your Highness.”

            He bows deeply, going down on a knee, and his men follow suits behind.

            “You are my king, now, and always.”

            The king nods, and signals for him to rise, to which he did.

            “Then watch, Dongwoo; watch, and never forget this.”

            He darts his eyes back outside just in time to see Woohyun giving a salute in the direction of the king. From the corner of his eye can see King Lee Howon nodding once, firm, while Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu returning the salute and steps forward, breaking a mirror with a chair from the royal office.

            He realizes it as the sign, and Woohyun lights up the cannon.

            The sound was so loud it echoes, and reflexively his body pulls King Lee Sungjong away, past the door as the whole palace shakes violently beneath his feet. His ears were ringing and he can barely hear anything but he was shouting, giving orders to his men to take the king away. Still, the last thing he remembers before he fled the scene was clear, so vivid in his mind as if everything moves in a slow-motion.

            There were mirrors, pieces of glasses floating from the impact, filling the whole area.

            And then there was King Lee Howon, in the midst of the reflected lights.

            The man stands tall, and firm, befitting of a ruler of a country.

            Softly, the monarch smiles at him.

            A hand grabs his just when he was about to shout -what, he didn’t know- pulling him away as the floor starts to crumble. He runs, to where his king was, evading the falling pillars and just run, run, and run.

            He still does, running, for he never stops searching for the whereabouts of the king, who returns to his country only to face rebellion by the people, and another long war erupted to overthrow the palace’s authority. On the surface, it was as if the plague sweeping the country, with death looming on people’s heads, though Dongwoo knows better, for he had always been near, almost at the border, but he never enters, not even when news spread far and wide, that the palace had fallen, and the main city has since been nothing but ruins.

            Still, he keeps his oath and promise.

            Now, years later, people can hardly remember the cause, and the incident has all but forgotten. But there is a legend that circulates among people, how there was a fearless young king, who when faced by pitchforks, simply sits on his throne, and welcomes them.

            He sits firm, befitting of a ruler of a country, when everyone has long fled away.

            He will then be reminded by thousand of glasses, and the red of fire.

            Yet all he can see is the dark in the king’s eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_Oh boy you ought to leave this town_   
_Get out while you can_

 

-Year 150X-

            It is like everything had come to a still.

            Sungjong watches, from his position at the bottom of the hill, as the palace crumbles, the top half falls into the arms of gravity. Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun had call for a surrender of his troops, and he almost scoffed at the bewildered look on the second squad’s captain. He glances at his men, and saw that some of them is injured, and proceeds to call for medical aid when Dongwoo approaches him, immediately bowing deep for putting him in danger. He is about to simply dismiss the man when he saw blood trailing the side of the face.

            Upon mentioned though, the Lord Marshall simply waves it off, saying things like he is okay, this is just a scratch and whatnot, ready to resumes his duty and escort the him back.

            Something pricks inside him and curls in his stomach, when he watches as the assistant Marshall, L, shouting orders, the soldiers bringing out loads of firewood and firecrackers. It was too much of an amount it’s almost amazing, as if they are bringing down the whole city.

            The realization makes him sick, and he almost cannot register the other Lord Marshall approaching, and bows politely. The knot in his stomach unravels and burns, as he takes in the soldier’s face, devoid of any emotion; every movement precise and sharp, as if programmed to reach one goal, which he is currently explaining to him but he don’t find it in him to actually listen and he almost screams when the weight of King Lee Howon’s apology sinks in.

            The monarch is a cruel king; how could he, making his own Lord Marshall destroy his own country, knowing the man is so loyal, he will never say no? What about the Chancellor, who stays with him until the very end? What about his own men, who is injured, and he himself, the king of a neighboring country, and Dongwoo-

            Ah, he thinks. This is exactly why he apologized in advance; he knew Sungjong will hate this. He knew, that he is being selfish, taking everything in his own hands, and crushes it till there’s nothing but dust left.

            He watches as the man, the soldier, bows, and turns around, adjusting the kepi on his head, and -as quotes-, proceed as planned. The convoy and the whole troops walk on the battered city, and the grave look on most of the soldier’s faces; be it the first squad or the second, is not a shocking scene, he thinks.

            They must have realized it, that they were all playing in King Lee Howon’s hands, dancing to the monarch’s tune, all the way till the curtain fall. There is no way they can admit it to the minister’s, and scarred their already bruised pride, so as predicted, they will take the blame, and cleaning it off the fallen king’s hands. King Lee Howon might lose his country, but he will forever wins in the eyes of his people.

            And Lee Sungjong; he, too, is a king. He has a pride as royalty, and the thought of been played the same by the ministers makes him want to vomit. He stops just a couple of footsteps before they reach the main fleet, and he turns. Behind him, the whole city is set on fire, painted red.

            He thinks of his people, his palace, his men, and laughs, for he just got an idea, a brilliant one at that, to settle all of his problems. He thinks of the Chancellor, and can imagine the man rolling his eyes if he ever knew this.

            He and King Lee Howon really get along well, too well, perhaps.

            He faces Dongwoo, and steels himself.

            “Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo, this is an order.”

            Immediately after, the man bows deep, ready to receive it.

            Never will he see this coming, though.

            “From now on, you are no longer the Lord Marshall of the country.”

            There is a collective gasp behind him, but trust the man to remain still.

            “And you are not to return to the country for the next 5 years at the very least.”

            As expected of a Lord Marshall, the man doesn’t lose to Woohyun at all.

            “Shall you ever do, I will convict you of treason.”

            The silence roaring in his ears, and he can see nothing but the fire.

            “Will you obey me, and fulfill your oath, Jang Dongwoo?”

            The sky is almost setting, and dusk paints everything a darker shade of red.   

            “Yes, I will, Your Highness.”  
     
            The man rises, face hard, eyes unreadable.

            Still, there is no ounce of hesitation in his voice.

            “You are my king, now, and always.”

            He nods, firm, and turns to leave, bearing the weight of Dongwoo’s stare on his back.

            He never looks back, for he is the king of a country.

 

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_To the door of mystery and dignity_   
_I'm wandering down, and searching down the secret sun_

 

-Year 152X-

            Myungsoo stops himself mid-talk, and breathes.

            He knows who this man is, had heard about him so much from the traveler, and if what the old journal told him is nothing but the truth, then words is overrated. He tries not to wince at the piercing stare directed straight at him, and reaches for the backpack instead, rummaging through it before he pulls out a small bundle of brown cloth. Carefully, he holds the bundle, as if it will break, and slowly opens it, to reveal a black kepi of a certain royal messenger.

            He can hear the man’s breathe hitch at the sight, eyes wide.

            “My name is Kim Myungsoo,” he starts, eyes still on the kepi.

            The man nods, and he continues.

            “I came from a country far away, not from this region.”

            He lifts his head, eyes firm on the other.

            “I came to hear the truth about the war, as promised to the owner of this headdress.”

            The man is gripping his knees so hard it turns white, and he is taken back to when he received the backpack and all its content, when he leave the town soon after, never looking back. He never returned either, not even once during his whole long, never-ending trip.

            The man turns, and reaches for his own kepi, kept polished and clean even after all these years, and holds it in his lap. There is a sigh escaping the lips, and a smile, so small, it’s almost bitter on the handsome face.

            “How did you found your way here?”

            Myungsoo rubs the back of his neck, didn’t expecting that, and smiles sheepishly.

            “By luck, I guess?”

            The man looks at him as if he is stupid and laughs, so hard, that he can’t help but laugh along. When they both get to calm the heck down, the air around them is more relaxed, and the man is not as stiff, to his relief.

            Still, the almost bitter smile makes its way onto the face.

            “I don’t know the whole story either, but if it helps, I will tell you everything I knew.”

            He nods, and watches as the man breathes in, eyes closed, pain visible on his face.

            “My name is Nam Woohyun,” he starts.

            There is conviction in his voice, and determination in his eyes.

            “I was, and still am, King Lee Howon’s Lord Marshall, until the day I die.”

            Woohyun is sure of that, always does, even from way back then.

            Back when he first receives the order to tear down his king’s own palace.

            It had been an order, simply because King Lee Howon intends for it to be; no discussions, no round tables, no opinions, nothing. The monarch was being selfish, and actually takes the late king’s ways to apply as his own, to Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu’s extreme irritation.

             The king had simply summoned him, and gives the order, as if he was just discussing the weather, as if he didn’t just tasked Woohyun with the biggest order he ever received along these years he held the post.

            He caught Sunggyu’s eyes, and there was something about the way it gleams that tells him to refuse, but he is the Lord Marshall, and there is definitely not a day he will refuse the king.

            So he accepts, firmly, from firing the cannon at the middle part of the Hall of Mirrors, to burn down the whole city. Howon had reasons that the burning is to kill the plague, and to revive the soil for the next generations; he had thought of simply not letting any building stand taller than the palace. He can’t bear the guilt, had it not been that way, and it goes along with the king’s plan anyway, so all’s good.

            Or so he thought, until the king unveils the last of his plan.

            “Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun, this is an order.”

            There was something about the tone that twists in him, and his fingers shake a bit.

            “Your last order, in fact.”

            His heart drops at that, deep, as if it sunk under the iron sea.

            “Once everything has turned to ashes, take your troops with you, and leave.”

            His ear was ringing and his throat parched, but he remained still.

            “There is no need for a soldier in a dead country.”

            He wanted to ask what about you, and Sunggyu, but he swallowed the words, hard.

            Instead, he steeled himself.

            “Yes, I understand, Your Highness.”

            He excused himself, and closed the door of the royal office, so quiet there was no sound. He kept on walking, and walking, without any destination until his legs gave out on him and yet he felt nothing but a dull ache in his chest.

            After a few moment passed, he rises, and made his way to the nearby fountain, washing his face. He actually end up dumping his whole head into the water, and when he emerged, there was no trace of tear left, and he felt so numb, it’s almost refreshing. L showed up with a towel later -how the younger just shows up everywhere is beyond him- and he thanked him with a smile before retired for the night.  
     
            The next day he was back to normal, almost too normal that Sunggyu narrowed his small eyes at him, and proceeded to whack his head with a rolled document, to which L thanked the Chancellor immensely, hiding his own thick rolled document behind his back.

            The whole troop had heard of the order, and many were worried about him, to which he simply smiled and put his best foot forward. He had said it to the Chancellor, to the assistant Marshall, and the whole entirety of his men, and he firmly believes it.

            He is the Lord Marshall of the country, and there was no greater pride he can ask for.

            So he salutes to the king, to the palace, for one last time, and lights the cannon.

            He stood there, eerily still, as the cannon breaks through the Hall of Mirrors; teeth clenched, and never, not even once, averted his eyes. He records it all in his mind, the pierced, broken glasses, the collapsed top floor, all the way until it bows to gravity. Later, he burned everything down with vengeance, painting the whole city a dark shade of red, and tried his hardest to not look at the palace.

            He gathered the men and retired early that night, camping at the open area, on what may be their last night on their own country. He had invited Dongwoo along, after the man collapsed due to injury and nobody said anything about how the Lord Marshall, too, was left behind by the king.

            The next day they split into 2 groups; one led by Woohyun will leave via the lone army fleet they manage to secure, while another led by L through the forest route. As he prepares to announce one last order to his men, Howon’s words before he leave for the attack resounds in him. The monarch will never know, but he had gotten chill down his spine at that, for it was the exact same words as the one he heard years ago, on the late king’s deathbed.

            “Live, Woohyun, and this country shall live on.”

            He mustered his courage, and repeats it, to an echoing reply from the entirety of his troop, and with one last salute, dismissed the army. He had intended to march on, and steel himself like always, but as the fleet leaves the land, he can’t help but turn around, even once, and a rush of feelings swept over him, for he can see the palace in its glory, standing tall before his blurry eyes.

            He saluted, firm and final, and let his tears flow.

            After that, he had walked everywhere across the region, parting ways with Dongwoo and most of the men at various stops across the region and proceeded to see the world, until he arrived at the small village under the extended territory of King Kim Jongwan a couple of years prior, and settled down.

            He had heard of people returning back to the country, and a part of him was dying to make the walk back, but the guilt never really eased from his heart, despite all these years, that he buried the thought back to the deepest part of his mind.

            If there’s one thing that Woohyun regrets the most, is that he never get to ask what the monarch really planned to do after his own home gone, but he was assured nonetheless, for Sunggyu is there. The monarch had planned for the elder to follow the troop, but the Chancellor, with the most display of determination he had ever seen from the man, went down on a knee, and humbly asked to stay, to which Howon accepts.

            It’s understandable, he thinks, for Sunggyu had been near the palace for almost the entirety of his life; and if there’s one person that can totally understand the decision wholeheartedly and perfectly, it will be the Lord Chancellor.

            Myungsoo nods at that, and leans on the chair, before handing Woohyun the old journal, and he watches as a mixture of emotions runs across the man’s face with each page. He decides to take his chances, and told the story on how he met Dongwoo -you really need to be careful, Myungsoo; Woohyun had said with a frown- and the grave digger, who managed to erupt a reaction from the former soldier, much like Dongwoo did.

            The Marshall had been so quiet after, deep in thought, and excuses himself to the room before returning with a black dress uniform and proceeds to remove the badge pinned on the left breast pocket.

            He hands it to Myungsoo, who is still too shell-shocked at the action, and smiles.

            “If you ever return to that country, and meet the man once more, please, give this to him, as proof that the Lord Marshall has lived on, even after all these years.”

            He accepts it carefully, and puts it in the same bundle as Sungyeol’s kepi.

            “Please, tell him to live on, too, and be happy.”

            He nods, recording the memory of the moment in his heart.

            Later when he starts to walk again, he catches Woohyun staring at him, and he tilts his head just so, to the elder’s laughter.

            “When you return back to your homeland, tell Sungyeol I’m sorry.”

            He grits his teeth at that, for there is nothing to be sorry about, but nods regardless.

            “And make sure you tell him everything. Nobody deserves it more than him.”

            He clutches the backpack like a lifeline, and bows. Along the way he was reminded by how Sungyeol always, always have a deep admiration for the Lord Marshall, and he is glad, extremely so, that he is able to meet the man.

            So much, it actually hurts.

 

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_Even when I try to get out of the sorrow-turned-house, on the threshold I cry_   
_Without realizing I cry_

 

-Year 150X-

            Howon opens his eyes to see a bird flying, so close in fact, that he might just be able to lift his arm and touch its wing. Except that he can’t, for both his arms, or rather, the whole of his body are paralyzed, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before panic sinks in.

            A soft gasp reached his ear, and he blinks slowly again to see one the maids at the palace peering up at him, hands at the mouth, before scurrying away. He is almost ready to write it off as hallucination or something when strong arms lift him up, freeing him from whatever that holds him down, and another hand shoves a tumbler of water to his lips, which he accepts gratefully.

            After another 5 seconds he regains his senses and almost choke out on air, for sitting by him is the palace’s gardener and maid, the cooks at the end of his peripheral vision, the guard clearing the rubble, and standing amidst of everything is Lord Chancellor Kim Sunggyu, who visibly lightens up at the sight of him.

            He is struggling to actually say something, anything really, and his brain is still muddled, that he can barely make out the reality of it all. A part of him is relieved while the other berates himself for he is sure he had included the palace’s workers in the list of people moved, but then Woohyun must have hold the list, and he catches himself looking for the Lord Marshall when flashes of the soldier saluting the palace drifts in his mind, and he stops thinking altogether.

            Later, when he is fully awake and well, he learns from Sunggyu that the people had actually pledge to stay instead, for they; like both Howon and Sunggyu, doesn’t have any other place to go, nor do they have family to come back to, so they made a deal with Woohyun to let them be, and the Marshall had actually made a passing remark before, something like a list had gone missing, but Howon was too preoccupied to take it seriously.

            Looking back, there is no way the Marshall will make such mistake, for the man prided himself of being a perfectionist in his duty, and the incident makes him wonder, if there are actually more things he missed, in the midst of everything.

            He had asked the Chancellor, in which he flicks the man on the forehead as response.

            “Rather than worry about the people that have gone, care for the one’s here.”

            He smiles at that, and starts to help building up the place, for miraculously, only the top floor collapsed albeit being hit by the strong cannon, leaving the lower floor intact for them to use as shelter. True to his word, Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun had burnt everything down, that there is nothing left but ashes, and wide areas of land that was used to be the city.

            In preparation for the inevitable, Howon had taken to experiment extensively, burning the land by the castle to see the effect the plague can bring to it months prior, and even when the rate of harvest decreases drastically the plot of land actually manage to survive, and until now, continue to be their sole source of food. The people had taken to go down and work the land, in order to help increase the sources; regardless of profession, be it the maids, the guards, the gardeners, the royalty and even the Chancellor.

            The whole time, Howon refers himself as Hoya, and Sunggyu actually frowns so bad when people called him Lord Chancellor, that it’s almost inevitable, really, that no one use polite speeches when they talk to both of them. In fact, they are convinced that the plague had long gone after a year passed, as they live in harmony at the hill, like a small village at an inconspicuous place.

            Howon- Hoya had been happy, so much; he works hard every day with a smile on his face, that it’s almost cruel how it was taken away from him.

            It starts when they are nearing the 2-year mark, as for the first time a death happen in the small-knit community. The gardener had came down with a fever, and everyone had taken to care for the elder, as everyone had been so close like a family, but no matter what they do the man never seemed to get better, and he succumbed to the illness a week after.

            Hoya was shaken, to say the least, but he and Sunggyu stays strong, and prepares the funeral the best way they can; as a tombstone find its way next to the late king’s.

            Next was the kind cook, who came down with the same illness not too soon after, and Sunggyu starts suspecting a possible poisonous plant mixed in theirs, but it was too late; by the time they figure out the cause the community has already been cut down to half, and slowly, the remaining people starts moving out, in fear of epidemic.

            Eventually, they are the only two people left, and the hill is almost covered by tombstones; for Hoya and Sunggyu had taken the liberty to make one for each of the people that had died, be it on the land or anywhere they were. They care for the graves, and still, despite everything, try to improve their conditions, until the fateful day that one of them falls asleep, and remains so.

            The remaining man handles the funeral himself; having been too accustomed with the job by then, and create the best tombstone for the person, right on the other side of the late king’s.

            Years passed and the palace had tore down completely, with only a small part of what was used to be the lower floor of the royal office remains. The lone man used it and redecorates as a simple shack, and never, not even once, steps out of the land. For the man had hurt deeply, only continue living because of the promise he made with the people in the past, and always, always alone.                     

            Until the very few remaining survivors who fled the place during the war gathered and returned, with plans to re-build back their hometown. He had been shocked, of course, for it has been long, way too long for this, but a voice whispers in his ear and he almost can taste his tears, which had dried and died with the last funeral he held.

            And there they stood, watching as a he coming out of the shack. Looking out at the people, and smiling at them as he walks slowly, yet surely down the path of the hill, is the man later known as the grave digger.

 

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_Take me back to the land_   
_Where my yearnings were born_

 

-Year 152X-

            The second time a certain traveler by the name of Kim Myungsoo arrives at the place is almost 2, or is it 3 years since the first time he did. The place had grown rapidly in such a short period of time, with the main road become so busy and bustling with energy, loud voices of sellers calling out for bargain. Despite the heat, which sends trickle of sweat down his neck, the people are all smiles when he arrives, and he is glad to see that there are still things that didn’t change along with the modernization of the town.

             If anything, maybe, he, too, didn’t change as much as he thought he did, for the owner of the inn he stayed before actually remembers his face -you were one of the first travelers that came and stay, after all; the man had said, while patting his back- and the kid that accompany him up the hill last time had grown considerably well into his teens, yet still owns the same bright smile, to which he is grateful for.

            The people remember him mostly as the first traveler who went up the hill, and apparently there was another man who went up not long after he did, and he can guess that it was Dongwoo, if only by the simple descriptions of the man’s face.

            He retires for the night after a long talk to catch up on things, and when he expresses his desire to visit the grave digger again, the owner had a genuine smile on his face, and highly encourages him to do so.

            “The grave digger is a very nice person, mister traveler.”

            The man puts down the cleaned glass, and smiles wistfully.

            “We are very, very glad, to have him as part of our growing city.”

            As he lies down and stares at the ceiling, the words of the owner keep repeating in his head, and he clutches his backpack tighter than he should, for this is finally it.

            The next day, he takes the opportunity to climb the hill, in order to meet the grave digger once more. He walks steadily and calmly, as opposed to the first time he walked down this very road to the path up the hill, Nothing changed at all at the hill, that he is hit by waves of déjà vu with each step he take.

            Still, nothing beats the feeling of nostalgia when he reaches the top.

            Standing with a shovel amidst the greenery is the grave digger, who smiles as he walks closer. He can almost see the exact same scene unfolding before his eyes; the kid had let go of his hand, running towards the man with a smile as brilliant as the sun, and he watched as the grave digger shakes his head softly with a kind smile when the kid apologized, a hand patting the kid’s head softly.

            He smiles at the memory, and with a newfound courage, walks on to greet the man.

            “It’s been a while, sir.”

            The man shakes his head at that, saying things like sir is too grand a title for him. But he simply smiles, and carefully, takes out the same bundle of brown clothes that was once shown to a certain Nam Woohyun before, and places it on the man’s hand. Myungsoo can never describe the look on the man’s face when the bundle unravels, fingers shaking softly.

            He had taken the liberty to keep the black kepi and badge polished and cleaned once a week, for he knew there is no replacing them. It is a treasure, to the owner, and to the one that still remembers.

            “I had met a man that was once called Lord Marshall Jang Dongwoo, at the ruin that was once the main city of the neighboring country and he detailed me on the war, as per my request.”

            The grave digger remains silent, and he takes it as the cue to continue.

            “Later on, I had the chance of meeting Lord Marshall Nam Woohyun, who requested of me to return the badge to you as proof that he had lived on, and his words was, as I quote; tell him to live on, too, and be happy.”

            He hands the old journal, and his journals, watching as the man clutches them tightly.

            “Though the reason I had walked on all these years, is on behalf of a squire and royal messenger by the name of Lee Sungyeol, from whom I received this backpack, and an old journal with details on the country this land once a part of.”

            The wind blows softly around them, like a comforting hand.

            “I am here, before you, to fulfill a man’s final wish.”

            He imagined Sungyeol in his mind, and he bowed deeply to the man, a knee on the ground, and reaches from a hidden compartment in the backpack a small, black long tube, the country’s insignia adorning the outer case.

            Sungyeol had hold on to the country’s seal when he went to work at King Kim Jongwan’s palace, as a representative to sign the agreement when the citizens move over to the said country.

            “For the person had walked his entire life, just to return this to its rightful owner.”  
            He had known, for there is a sketch in the same hidden compartment, of a man patting a kid’s head, with only a simple note of identity. Perhaps it is fate, for the sight of the grave digger years ago had stayed with him for a long, long time indeed, vivid in his mind, all he does is simply put two and two together.

            “Please, accept these, as symbol of these men’s undying loyalty to you.”

            There is no mistaking this.

            “Your Highness.”

 

 

 

 

 

*******

  
_And now it's clear as this promise_   
_That we're making two reflections into one_

 

-Year 153X-

            The wind blows softly, and the cool feels refreshing on his skin.

            Myungsoo walks on the road, clutching the backpack tighter on his shoulder as he nears the bend to the entry of the village. It had been too long, but for some reason he never gets lost in returning back here, as if he had always knew where to go and turn.

            The village had grown immensely he almost never recognize it, and the spot where the old antique shop and bakery situated in his memory has since been replaced by a diner. He skims through the faces and gets lost in nameless strangers, and proceeds to just continue walking.

            He almost cried out in relief when the familiar cottage appears before his sight, old, and abandoned, but still there, and for him, that is all that matters, really. He walks on pass the house and turns at another bend to find Sungyeol’s new home, one the traveler moved right before he starts his journey, long, long years ago.

            He puts down the backpack, and taking out the journals filled with notes, and smiles softly, hand rubbing the cold tombstone.

            “I’m back, Sungyeol-hyung. I met them all; like I said I would, and-”

            The wind blows, softly, gently on his cheek.

            Later, when the sun is about to set and Myungsoo stands up to leave, he catches the grave digger staring at him. Politely, he smiles, when the old man speaks.

            “You look different, somehow.”

            He tilts his head at that, utterly confused.

            “Didn’t you come and visit last week? I thought you looked a bit older though.”

            He is just about to deny it when a thought strikes him.

            “Are you sure it was me, mister?”

            His heart pounds softly in his chest.

            “Yes, of course, nobody else come and visit that grave, you see.”

            The old man starts to walk away and he stands there, still. On the tip of his tongue is a name he always heard and knew so well along the course of the trip, yet he swallows it all in, and simply smile softly at the direction of the grave.

            “They, too, had been walking for you, Sungyeol-hyung.”

            Someplace an ocean away, Howon puts a black kepi on a tombstone, next to Sunggyu’s.

 

 

 

 

 

*******

            There was an old grave digger living on a shack beside the cemetery on the hill. No one knew his name, or how old he was, but he had been there from the start, they say; back when the town was nothing but remnants of the last war, which ends when a great fire burns everything down until nothing was left behind but ashes.

            The man was well-known among the townspeople, for he kept to himself a lot, yet always, always so kind, and handles the funerals with utmost respect, regardless of the status and identity of the dead.

             The grave digger had made a routine of going down to the town every weekend, simply to greet the people and help around and the people had been so used to it, that when the man didn’t show up one weekend, many grew to worry about him. In the wake of that, the grocer kid, who had since taking over the business, went up the hill that day, and alerted the doctor when he caught the grave digger lying on the ground, motionless amidst the greenery beside his shack.

            The passing of the grave digger brought a somber mood to the whole town, and the people also decided to leave the shack and all the stuff inside be, in respect to the man. But, if there is one thing that the townspeople kept as secret among themselves, it is about the pair of black kepi as well as the overcoat that was used by the royal officers in the past, carefully folded and kept on the low table beside the bed.

            Beside the headdresses was a case that contains a royal seal and a sketch of a man and a kid placed beside the seal, with a simple note that said Your Highness under the picture. Nobody mentioned how the man in the sketch looked exactly like the grave digger, simply because no one feels the need to.

            It is not their place to say anything.

            It is a story reflected in the looking glass.

            That falls somewhere in the crack of time.

            It is fleeting away.

 

 

 *******

 

 

_'Cause it's like you're my mirror_   
_My mirror staring back at me_   
_Staring back at me_

 

 


End file.
